


The Difference Between a Book and Its Cover

by mogwai_do



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes pretense is the easiest way to reveal a truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between a Book and Its Cover

Duncan gazed down at his lover from his spot on the upper level with a certain amount of fond affection. The tall Immortal sat cross-legged, surrounded by children, and yet he didn't look at all out of place. As his voice rolled out across the room Duncan found it unsurprising that Methos held their complete attention. He had even noticed a few adults stopping their work now and again and wandering in to listen, just as he did - although he did have an ulterior motive - he got to see another side of his secretive lover. Still it was compelling, he could well believe that Methos had once been a storyteller by profession; he certainly knew all the tricks of the trade.

Duncan leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the rise and fall of his lover's voice draw him into the story. It was no wonder the children were so well-behaved, putting paid to current theories that children's attention spans were shortening. He smiled in fond remembrance of his own surprise when Methos had agreed to join him helping out at the school.

The school was in one of the poorest districts of Seacouver and had recently been the victim of fire. The buildings had been badly damaged and couldn't be used until they had been completely renovated, but many of the children had nowhere else to go during the day because their parents had to work. Feeling a need to be more community-spirited, Mac had donated funds and his own time to help with the renovation. Since the school couldn't afford much, the teachers had had to resort to doing the work themselves, which left the children largely unsupervised.

It had come as no surprise to Duncan that Methos had, on arrival, flatly stated that he didn't _do_ manual labour, but when Adam Pierson had stepped in with an offer to entertain the children, Duncan had done a double-take, as sceptical as the teachers who dealt with the children on a daily basis. Yet the children had taken to their substitute teacher almost immediately, Mr Adam, as he had become known, was very popular and Duncan had had it remarked to him on more than one occasion that his friend had missed his calling. Duncan smiled privately at that, willing to bet that it was in fact an occupation that had not passed his lover by and however much he might protest otherwise, the ancient Immortal was a good teacher for _all_ ages. And so Methos had settled into his new role, while Duncan did his 'boy-scout things'.

Duncan watched as one of the children tugged on his lover's sleeve and asked a question about the story. He smiled remembering the incredulity of the staff when they had heard what Adam had in mind to keep the children occupied; reading them a book would never do it, they said, certainly not one without any pictures. Yet it was that point at the end of the day that the children obviously looked forward to most. Duncan had often watched with amusement as Methos fended off requests for the next part ahead of schedule and certainly the children gathered around the eldest Immortal were very attentive.

Methos' choice of book had not really surprised Duncan all that much; it was one of Duncan's favourites and certainly provided enough story for the children to enjoy. He had seen young girls and boys alike fending off orcs on their break times. He had thought it might be a bit too old for them, but it appeared that was not the case when it was read to them. The renovation work was nearly complete now and proper classes would resume in maybe a week or two, but Duncan would lay odds on 'Mr Adam' being asked to return to finish the story. He couldn't help but feel a certain pride in his lover for this unexpected talent.

He realised with a start that Methos was watching him so he sent his lover a smile and Methos returned his attention to his charges and continued with the story. He listened as Methos spoke of magical woods and Elven queens and found himself watching his lover as intently as the children were, absorbing every nuance of the performance, for performance it was. Duncan closed his eyes and let the simple pleasure of listening to his lover carry him away to a world of magic; he knew the story well enough, but hearing his lover tell it made it seem new again, a world he could almost touch.

"And I shall not be dark,"

Duncan jolted back to reality with the change in Methos' voice and found himself staring in confusion at the change that had come over his lover. Duncan knew the storytellers' tricks of creating the reality of characters through voice and expression and gesture, but this... this was something else. The children saw Mr Adam telling them a story and making it seem real; Duncan saw something else entirely, something he had never expected to see.

"but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night!"

Duncan felt a shiver run down his spine as the rest of the world faded from his sight. The familiar lover he knew was gone; the creature that stood down there in the circle of children was Methos, Eldest Immortal. The living embodiment of every fairy tale the Immortals had; a myth himself to almost all. He was _Methos_ , exactly as the stories described him. Duncan drew in a harsh breath at the sight, fear and wonder warring within him as he looked into the familiar face of his lover and realised that he was seeing him for the first time. Methos wasn't putting on a mask for this role; he was taking one off.

"Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain!"

Adam had become Methos in the telling: ancient and young, beautiful and wise, all the things he usually denied so vehemently. Duncan watched the unveiling in fascinated awe. Pale skin that he knew from experience was soft to the touch, angular features that should have been harsh but instead were ascetic and almost fae, and in those chameleon eyes a wealth of experience so great it was beyond his comprehension.

"Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning!"

The steady hum of his lover's Presence became the whole of Duncan's awareness, vibrating his bones with the sort of power that shivered mountains into the sea. Five thousand years of power had never seemed so real as now, a tangible thing that stole his breath and thought.

"Stronger than the foundations of the earth."

Five thousand years of survival - more than. What sort of will did it take to live that long when Duncan was tired after a mere four hundred. And it wasn't just the passage of time, the things he had endured - hatred, fear, flood, famine, war, pestilence... and Death. Methos hadn't just survived either; he had lived, he had loved, he had hurt - just like everyone else. Live, grow stronger, fight another day - a code he tossed off glibly when pushed, but Duncan suddenly realised it was far more than just a snappy comeback - it was true.

"All shall love me and despair!"

And oh God, he did! Duncan felt it as a spell cast, an enchantment from which there was no escape, no defence. So much strength and power and beauty and will in one person; there was no way Duncan could be worthy of the love of such a one, no way his own love could be aught of worth to such a creature. Duncan sagged back against the wall, caught in the words and the power they had conjured. He'd given it no thought when they had first become lovers, disregarded the age difference as one who would live forever often did, and never thought that age might not be the only difference between them. He was a child by comparison, in age, in attitude, in everything. He had attained the unattainable without realising what it was and now he knew, he realised he had never had it.

Tears the flavour of despair welled up and were hastily dashed away. It was a story, just a story, that was all. But, God, no story had ever affected him like this before! Duncan pulled himself together slowly and looked down at the children listening raptly and wished for a moment that he were as innocent as they of the knowledge of the ancient creature that spoke to them in the guise of Mr Adam.

Methos glanced up again and Duncan had to turn his head away quickly, not wanting his too-perceptive lover to see how shaken he was. Drawing a shaky breath he let it out slowly; he and Methos were friends and lovers, but friends first. Methos, despite his digs at Duncan about chivalry and other such things, had never treated Duncan as though he were any less than Methos himself - which was ridiculous, but Duncan drew hope from it. He was just letting his lover's skilful storytelling get to him. That was all.

"I pass the test,"

The resonant baritone had dropped to a softer tone and Duncan found himself drawn in once more against his will. Yet the compelling voice soothed now, calming his mind, less intense without taking from the underlying power.

"I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel."

Something in that voice touched a chord in Duncan and the bindings of fear and insecurity melted away. He breathed deeply and let his head fall back against the wall. Methos' voice flowed over him and he lost the sense of the words; only those first words remained clear in his mind and Duncan saw Methos in a new light.

'And I shall not be dark,' Duncan wondered at the phrase that had so affected him; a statement of intent, of denial. Methos had been dark, black as they came, but he had turned his back on it and when the past had returned he had rejected it again. He had passed the test.

Duncan wondered how easy it would have been to remain visible, surely far easier than hiding so completely, disappearing into obscurity. Methos could have stayed in the open; he had no need to remain Death to do so, his reputation had already been established without that title. Five thousand years would have made him a target anyway, but he could have taken the advantages that went with such power. If any Immortal deserved the title Prince of the Universe it was him, other Immortals would have fought and died for him, the other 'Methos' had proven that. As many would want to protect him as take his head - Duncan himself had made his choice and been granted a rare friendship.

How hard must it have been to cast aside Methos, to bury Death and become 'just a guy', and why had he made that choice?

Duncan studied his lover from his vantage point as the reading came to a close and watched as Adam herded the children off to their break as if he'd been doing it for years. Maybe he had, Duncan had no idea. He watched as his lover fielded questions about Elves and rings, seemingly in his element among these infant mortals. Perhaps that had been the reason why; maybe Methos had wanted to regain some of the humanity he must surely have lost during his stint as Death and saw the only way of doing that as by starting from scratch entirely. It was possible, but then with Methos just about anything was possible.

"Mac?"

Duncan smiled wryly to himself, much as Methos tried he could never be 'just a guy'; that power and strength was there, hidden, denied at every opportunity, but there if you cared enough to see it. If he let you care enough, if he cared enough in return.

"Duncan? Are you alright?"

Duncan jerked from his thoughts at the sound of his lover's voice so close. He turned to see Methos walk up to him and peer over his shoulder down to where he had been sitting previously.

"Yeah, fine. Just thinking."

He could hear the smile clearly in Methos' voice, "I thought we agreed you were going to leave that to me until you got the hang of it."

Duncan laughed, "Well I can't do that if you won't let me practise."

Methos chuckled, "Damn. You saw through my cunning plan." He peered over into the hall again and then turned serious eyes to Duncan. "So, what were you thinking about?"

Duncan slipped his arm around Methos' waist and leaned close. "You," he whispered into the nearest ear.

Methos shivered at the sensation and leaned into Duncan. "Me, huh? I think I like the sound of that. What were you thinking about me?" His tone was sly and seductive and seriously distracting... though not quite as distracting as the hand that was stealthily creeping up under Duncan's sweater.

In answer Duncan grinned and nibbled lightly at his lover's ear. To his surprise though Methos stiffened and moved away, Duncan glanced around quickly to see if anyone could see them. Although Methos was absolutely without shame in such matters, he was always conscious of Duncan's reputation. There was no-one around. Duncan looked at Methos questioningly and was met with a serious expression.

"Give," Methos' tone brooked no arguments.

Duncan tried for innocent, "What?"

Methos wasn't buying, "Whatever it is you're trying to hide."

Duncan shrugged, "I wasn't 'trying to hide' anything." He wasn't, he was failing; he should have known better than to try to conceal anything from the master of evasion himself. "And anyway, it's nothing for you to be concerned about." That was a mistake.

"You said you were thinking about me, I'd say that concerns me." Methos was not going to be persuaded to let this go.

Duncan sighed and tried to weigh the cost of telling against the cost of keeping silent - Methos could be so unpredictable with what caused offence. He never agreed with the idea that it was better not to know, at least not as it applied to himself, and at the same time he hated anyone prying. Would he be upset more if Duncan didn't tell him or if he did? Duncan took a chance on telling him.

"Okay," he said quietly. He nodded towards the door, suggesting that they take this elsewhere, "not here though."

Methos nodded and let Duncan lead them both to one of the outer doors where they could see the children playing on the grass. For a couple of minutes they watched in silence. Duncan leaned back against the door post and watched Methos, who stood just that bit too far away for his lover's comfort. Methos watched the children play and let Duncan find the words.

"I..." Duncan trailed off before he'd even begun, lost for how to explain. "I don't know how to explain it," he said quietly.

Methos flicked his eyes toward Duncan briefly, but didn't turn to look at him. "What started it?"

That was easy. "You. Reading to the kids." Duncan thought a little more then elaborated, "The way you looked, your voice, the way you... became the characters."

Methos' head tilted up to look at the sky, not even glancing in Duncan's direction. "Ah." Then he turned toward Duncan with an unreadable expression. "Which bit was I reading, if you don't mind my asking?"

Duncan felt suddenly intensely uncomfortable under Methos' casually curious gaze. "'And I shall not be dark...'" he quoted.

Something flickered behind his lover's eyes, but it vanished before Duncan could identify it. Methos looked back out toward the children and Duncan could practically see the connections being made in that frighteningly complex mind. Methos knew what he'd seen, what he'd felt.

Duncan swallowed anxiously and dared to speak again. "Did you mean to do that?"

Methos didn't bother to ask what he meant, "Maybe, I don't know." He registered Mac's scepticism without having to see it. "Mac... sometimes I do things and even _I_ don't understand why." He shrugged a little uncomfortably with that admission then turned to look at Mac. "It usually turns out for the best though..."

Something about his tone seemed almost... hopeful to the Highlander. Methos looked as calm and composed as he usually did, but Duncan could sense apprehension and a kind of vulnerability behind those hazel eyes. As though Methos had left himself open, dropped his shields for just this moment, and was waiting for his lover to recognise the opportunity that presented itself. It suddenly occurred to Duncan that Methos was as afraid of messing up this relationship as he was. Methos was trusting his instincts and trusting Duncan not to run from whatever he found. Now Duncan had to trust that whatever he discovered in this golden opportunity... Methos wouldn't let it tear them apart either. Methos had laid himself open if Duncan could just find the courage to get to know him better.

Duncan smiled and reached out to take Methos' hand in his own, then he pulled them both down to sit on the steps, side by side and as close as the lovers they were.

"Was it real? The mask?" Duncan queried at last. He may have been afraid of the answers, but he knew he would forever regret it if he let the opportunity pass him by.

Methos let out the breath he had been holding, "Pretty much, yeah."

Duncan sat back, he'd known Methos wouldn't lie to him, but the honesty was still somehow unexpected. "It's frightening," Duncan risked the truth himself and was surprised at the rueful laugh it received.

"You should see it from this side," Methos' tone was wry and somehow it eased the fear.

"Was it hard?" Duncan was about to clarify when he realised that Methos had tracked him perfectly.

"To leave it all behind? Sometimes, at first. Like everything else it gets easier with time and I've had a lot of that."

It was Duncan's turn to laugh, "Yeah, I guess you have."

They lapsed into a companionable silence. Duncan became aware of the hand he still held in his own, really they should stop that before someone noticed, from his conversations with a number of the staff he guessed they weren't really that tolerant of such things, certainly not around children. But he didn't let go; Methos' hand was warm in his, it had a reassuring solidity to it that Duncan wasn't prepared to give up just yet. He was surprised when Methos' hand tightened briefly and he looked up to see his lover smiling gently at him.

"Did it really scare you that much?" Methos' voice was quiet, almost hesitant. He was afraid of the answer.

Duncan gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, "It terrified me," he said truthfully and knew he hadn't imagined that almost-flinch. "But I'll get over it," he assured his lover.

"Why?"

Duncan tilted his head to look at his lover's painfully vulnerable expression. "Why did it terrify me or why will I get over it?"

"Either. Both."

As Duncan watched his lover he found it suddenly very hard to reconcile the hesitant, vulnerable man he saw now with the image of the powerful, ancient Immortal that was forever branded in his memory. "I guess it scared me because it made me realise just how much more of you there is than what you usually let anyone see and..." Duncan took a deep breath before continuing, "and I couldn't see how I had any business being with you."

Methos looked stricken and Duncan wrapped Methos' hand in both of his own and lifted it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I'll get over it because despite all that, I know you _do_ care for me, maybe even love me... I know I love you and I'm just selfish enough not to want to let you go just because I'm not good enough for you."

If anything Methos looked even more stricken, but then his expression firmed and he leaned in very close to Duncan. "Actually, you're too good for me," his breath whispered across Duncan's skin making him all the more aware of just how close Methos was. "But that selfishness thing is a good start, if we work on that we might just be able to get you down to tolerable levels of nobility."

Duncan's lips curved up in a smile as he heard what Methos was saying. "Oh I think I could manage to be a bit more selfish. I'm definitely willing to try, but I may need some experienced help..." Duncan left it hanging and hoped to God he wasn't fooling himself that Methos wanted this too.

Methos' slow smile was like the sun coming up, warming Duncan all the way through. "What sort of help did you have in mind?" his voice was like warm honey on the senses and Duncan felt himself flush with sudden arousal.

"Well I learn better with hands on experience," Duncan replied, daring his lover.

Methos grinned back, "In that case, can I interest you in some private tuition?"

Duncan didn't bother to answer that, he just stood, dragging his lover up with him and pulling him close until their breath mingled tantalisingly.

"Mr Adam!"

A little girl came tearing up to them breathlessly, quickly followed by a slightly younger boy. With a typical child's self-confidence and a total disregard for whatever she might be interrupting, she grabbed Adam's hand and tugged him down to her level. With a rueful grin for his lover, Methos went.

"Mr Adam," she said conspiratorially in a loud whisper. "Mr Adam, are you a Elf?"

Methos actually looked startled and Duncan nearly choked on a laugh. "An Elf?" he repeated perplexed.

The little girl nodded vigorously, backed up by the boy, obviously this had been a point of great debate between them. "Why would you think I'm an Elf?" Adam asked, still somewhat confused.

"'Cause you look like a Elf,"

" _An_ Elf," he corrected automatically.

" _An_ Elf," she repeated dutifully. "'Cept for the ears anyway," she continued with typical six year old determination. "And your skin is really white and you're really tall and stuff."

Duncan was chuckling at the little girl's assessment of his lover.

"And your nose is big, but you're really pretty, just like the Elfs," she ran out of breath.

Methos actually seemed at a loss for what to say to that, but he shot a sour look at his chuckling lover anyway. "No, Kirsty," he eventually replied, "I'm not an Elf."

Kirsty looked rather disappointed at that, but she pouted prettily and dragged her little brother away with her anyway. With the children out of earshot Duncan abandoned composure and laughed until he couldn't breathe. When he finally managed to stop and straightened up he saw his lover regarding him with tolerant amusement.

"It wasn't _that_ funny," Methos eventually protested. But he didn't seem overly distressed, in fact the way he slipped into Duncan's personal space as if he belonged there spoke pretty strongly against any sort of distress.

Duncan shrugged and grinned unrepentantly, "Well she had it almost right and her logic was good."

Methos raised an eyebrow, "Because I was 'pretty'?"

"Really pretty," Duncan corrected, leering at his rather bemused lover.

Methos' expression spoke eloquently of disbelief, but when Duncan slipped his arms lightly around his waist and one hand insinuated itself beneath Methos' sweater to stroke across his skin, Methos gave in and let himself be convinced.

Duncan relished the warmth he felt as Methos favoured him with a fond smile and then moulded himself to Duncan's body. He had a definite craving for the taste of that smile and realised miserably that with the children around he couldn't really indulge. At least not here. Duncan abruptly turned Methos around and began propelling him at speed toward the parking lot. Methos laughed, but he didn't resist.

*****

The evening sunshine had painted the loft in reds and golds, granting their home an appearance of warmth belied by the cool autumn weather. Duncan hung up his coat and watched his lover sling his own onto the nearest chair; neither had spoken on the way back to the dojo and the vaguely thoughtful silence had taken on a life of its own. Somewhere along the way, the urgency he had felt for his lover's touch had once again been subsumed by that sense of awe - it was a little unnerving and he really didn't want Methos to take it amiss.

Methos seemed to take Duncan's change of mood in stride though; he didn't say anything, merely wandered over to the fridge and helped himself to a beer. Duncan felt at a loss to break the spell and rather than watch his lover, he wandered over to the window, hoping that whatever it was he was feeling would either sort itself out or go away.

"I can leave if you prefer," it was said so quietly that it took a moment for Duncan to register the words and when he did he saw the mistake he had made. In not wishing to say the wrong thing and upset his lover, he had instead withdrawn from him and that was an even worse mistake.

"No..." his voice somehow failed to sound, "no." Duncan turned to see Methos perched on the counter-top, long legs dangling over the edge, beer bottle held loosely in both hands and a flawlessly casual expression that didn't belong with the voice that had just suggested the end of their relationship.

Duncan wasn't really aware of crossing the distance to his lover, just of the relief he felt when he had insinuated himself between his lover's knees and taken the bottle from his hands, that he could touch and hold this elusive creature - for the moment at least.

"No," Duncan replied softly. "I wouldn't prefer that at all." There was an almost imperceptible easing in his lover's long body and Duncan let his hands come to rest on the old Immortal's thighs - not suggestive, not imprisoning, just... resting. He studied the contrast between his hands and the dark denim of his lover's jeans - for some reason he didn't want to see Methos' face just yet.

"I don't know what to tell you," Duncan began, his voice only loud enough to reach his lover. "I don't wish that you'd never shown me, but... it's kind of... it's a lot to adjust to."

"I know," Methos' voice was soft. "You're the first person to see this much of me in a *very* long time, Duncan. It wasn't my intention to frighten you and I'm sorry if it does," he paused as though uncertain of whether or not to continue his thought, "but I can be selfish myself at times." Duncan could hear the smile in Methos' voice, inviting him to share the humour, then a deep breath, "And I want you to love _me_ , not Adam, not any of the other masks."

No power on earth could have stopped Duncan from looking up then, not even his own fear, "I do love you, I do." How, Duncan wondered, had he become the one offering reassurance when he was the one who had been so terrified by the discovery of his lover's reality. "I felt honoured that you let me see you," and that was the honest truth. Duncan smiled ruefully as he acknowledged the rest of it, "even if it did scare me senseless."

Methos' smile was small, but reward enough. "Honoured?"

Duncan blushed, "Yeah."

Methos chuckled and some hidden tension evaporated, noticeable only by its absence, "If I'd known that I would have shown you sooner, I might have got a bit more respect." Duncan watched the intensity of Methos' regard change, "Seriously though," Methos' voice matched his words, "are you okay with this?"

Duncan dropped his eyes and rubbed his hands anxiously over the soft denim covering his lover's legs. "It'll take a bit of getting used to," he admitted and raised his eyes to meet Methos'. "But you know that joke about only being as old as you feel?" Duncan slid his hands up to Methos' hips in emphasis and grinned at his lover. Methos' smile was affectionate; he knew where this was going. "Well, 5,000 years is feeling pretty good to me right now."

Methos' breathless "Good," was lost in the kiss that followed.

Words ceased to become necessary or even desirable as Methos slipped his arms around Duncan's neck and one kiss became many. Duncan tightened his own arms around his lover's waist and pulled him nearer until he could feel Methos' growing arousal against his belly. Long legs imprisoned him against the counter and his own arousal was becoming uncomfortable, trapped inside his jeans, but he wasn't going to stop this for the world. He could breathe Methos; the taste of his mouth, of his skin when he could no longer confine himself to that singular delight and began to trail kisses along the Ancient's jaw. Duncan chased Methos' pulse along his throat and felt long fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him back and up to a deep, devouring kiss that made him forget exactly why he'd decided to abandon that clever mouth earlier.

Slippery velvet tongues tangled as mouths mated and breathing became superfluous. Duncan felt Methos' hands slip back over his shoulders to slide down his chest, teasing touches through the material, and Duncan remembered he had hands of his own. He was reluctant to lose the feel of the body within his arms, but he slid one hand back around Methos' waist and down. Duncan stroked his lover's straining erection through the thick denim and was rewarded with a gut-deep moan that he swallowed hungrily.

This was killing him; he could feel the throb and pulse of his cock all through his body, but the kitchen counter prevented him from getting any closer to the older Immortal. Every ounce of control he could muster was barely enough to stop himself from coming before he'd had as much of his lover as he wanted; it was nowhere near enough to let him be parted from that hot, responsive body long enough to drag them both to the bed.

Duncan stroked his lover's cock again and Methos wriggled against him, breaking their kiss with a gasp - Duncan simply took the opportunity of the exposed throat to move his depredations there.

"Duncan!" Had it been any voice but his lover's Duncan doubted he would ever have noticed it. "Let me off this counter... Please... Now!" The note of urgency penetrated the haze of arousal and Duncan reluctantly opened a small space between them. Methos slithered off the counter and up against Duncan in a single sinuous movement and it was Duncan's turn to groan. The warmth of the strong body so close to his, seeped into Duncan's bones and he was sure his knees would buckle under the sudden rush of sensation. The world contracted to his lover alone and that was all he needed.

Wrapped up in his lover, Duncan didn't realise they were moving until they were falling onto the bed. Methos landed by his side, but moved over him almost before they had stopped bouncing. "Much better," Methos whispered hotly in his ear before nipping the lobe, his hands already at work on the buttons of Duncan's shirt.

Duncan couldn't remain passive for more than a minute; the ache in his groin demanded a more active participation and before long the floor of the loft was littered with various items of clothing, some of them rather the worse for their abrupt removal. Methos' hands and mouth were everywhere, setting Duncan's body afire wherever they touched. Fingernails scraping lightly over his ribs, a hot tongue swirling around his navel and Duncan found himself helpless in the face of his body's responses to Methos' loving orchestration.

At the first touch of his lover's skilled mouth on his straining cock Duncan's eyes flew open and he groaned in pleasure. He watched in a mixture of awe and pleasure as Methos ducked his head and took Duncan's cock deep in his throat. Duncan combed his fingers restlessly through the already mussed spikes of his lover's hair while Methos' tongue destroyed the remains of his virtually non-existent control. He could feel his orgasm building and struggled to stay still so he wouldn't choke his lover. Methos however, didn't seem at all discomforted by the twist and surge of Duncan's hips; his face was set in rapt concentration as he increased the pace of his efforts. The ancient Immortal could no more be resisted than could time itself and as Methos took his lover's cock deep again, Duncan felt himself hurtle over the edge of ecstasy, safe in the knowledge that his lover would catch him.

*****

Duncan opened his eyes moments or an eternity later, to watch as Methos greedily suckled the last of Duncan's pleasure. Then the old Immortal settled himself comfortably across Duncan's thighs with an expression of catlike content, nuzzling softly against the quiescent cock. In the light of the dying sun Methos' distinctive features were cast in gilded shadow, an ethereal creature stepping straight out of myth, impossible and unreal. In wonder, Duncan raised his hand and hesitantly touched one sharp cheekbone. Methos stopped.

"Duncan?" Methos' voice was a warm whisper against his skin.

Duncan shook his head dumbly and Methos straightened in concern, sweat-damp skin gleaming faintly. Strangely apprehensive Duncan managed to force the words out, "I need... I need to feel you." He let his fingers trail from Methos' face down his neck to his shoulder and he pulled the older Immortal upward to claim his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss, trying to explain with actions what he couldn't with words. When Methos finally pulled away he brushed his lips lightly over the contours of Duncan's face, reassuring.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his breath ghosting past Duncan's ear.

Duncan turned his head towards his lover to claim another kiss and let a hand roam down Methos' body to wrap around his untouched erection. "Absolutely," he replied with all the conviction he could muster. The kiss that was his reward promised everything.

Duncan began to slowly stroke the hot, heavy cock resting in his palm and smiled to himself when Methos groaned faintly and buried his face against Duncan's neck as he attempted to gather the energy and the control to take this further. Eventually slender fingers began to stray from their resting places to touch and caress Duncan's pleasure-damp skin.

A sudden heave and Methos was sitting up, straddling the Highlander's hips, all signs of languor falling away. Duncan returned the smile his lover offered and then closed his eyes to savour the feel of Methos moving against him in a gentle rocking motion. Despite his earlier satiation, Duncan felt the first stirrings of arousal, stirrings that blossomed into a more insistent need when Methos claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss and lowered himself so that they touched along almost their entire lengths.

Where the first fuck had been a desperate, hungry affirmation of the need they both felt; this was different, no less hungry, if anything it was more intense, an acknowledgement of the subtle change in their relationship. There was no haste in the movement of flesh against flesh, just a kind of peaceful tidal rhythm, echoed in the give and take of their kisses.

Then Methos was moving down, bathing Duncan in kisses on the way, until he could once again enjoy the taste of Duncan's now almost fully-erect cock. Duncan arched up as Methos' clever mouth continued its journey down to the velvety pouch and lower. His breath caught in a silent gasp as he felt Methos' tongue move over and around that most intimate of places. Breathing became laughably difficult, there didn't seem to be nearly enough air in the room and he wasn't sure whether it was the lack of oxygen or the intense pleasure that was clouding his vision. When Methos began to explore further and his tongue slipped inside, Duncan was sure he began begging for mercy, but he couldn't hear his own voice over the rush of blood in his ears and he hoped Methos couldn't either because if he did he might stop. Then Methos was moving away, not far and not for long, but it seemed an eternity before Duncan felt strong hands turning him onto his side and slick fingers replaced the questing tongue.

Gentle hands and strong fingers moulded his willing, but exhausted flesh and Duncan tried not to tense up at the not-yet familiar sensations. This wasn't completely unknown, but neither was it something to which he was accustomed, as Methos was well aware. The ancient Immortal distracted him with deep, hot kisses, until Duncan was desperate for something, anything, to fill the empty, burning ache inside him.

Duncan felt the blunt head of Methos' slicked cock nudge up against him and tried to relax. Curiously there was no fear, not of this intimacy and not of Methos, not this time. The realisation caught him by surprise and the physical echo registered with his lover.

"Duncan?"

Methos' voice was carefully neutral and Duncan knew that, if he wanted to, he could call it all off, even now. Fortunately that was the last thing on his mind; he twisted his head so he could see Methos' concerned face. He smiled, trying to reassure his ancient lover, "No. S'okay. I want... On my back. I want to see you."

The look of surprised delight made it worth all the effort. "Okay," Methos whispered warmly.

The shift was quickly accomplished, a pillow stuffed under his hips for comfort, and then Methos was leaning over him, his cock poised once more at the entrance to Duncan's body. Duncan closed his eyes against the sudden rush of arousal in anticipation of the pleasure he would soon receive.

"Duncan," Methos' voice was quiet and compelling, a voice that Duncan had only just learned to recognise. "Open your eyes."

Duncan did as he was bid and gasped, abruptly on the knife-edge of orgasm, as Methos began to slowly push into Duncan's body and as he did so he let all the familiar masks fall away. Duncan fought to keep his eyes open so he could absorb the play of expressions across Methos' face as he began to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in to the hilt. Every thrust flayed Duncan with electric ecstasy, he'd wanted to give this to Methos, to thank him for trusting him, but this was too much, it couldn't be this good for Methos. Yet when he looked into his lover's face he could see his own joy and satisfaction reflected back at him, and it might have been a foolish fantasy on his part, but he believed it was more than just an enjoyment of the physical.

Time held even less meaning than it usually did for the two Immortals until the moment when Duncan reached up and dragged the older Immortal down for a deep, consuming kiss. That intimate twining of tongues seemed to free something in the ancient Immortal and he began to thrust, harder and faster and deeper, devouring Duncan with a passion the Highlander had never suspected. Then for one heartbeat Methos seemed to freeze above his lover, his expression so open that Duncan couldn't help himself. Duncan came with a groan, his cock never having been touched, as Methos bowed his head and poured himself into his lover.

*****

Feeling strangely protective Duncan cradled the sweaty, sticky form of the eldest Immortal to his chest while he waited for their heartbeats to return to something approaching normal. With a sigh Methos snuggled closer, heedless of the fact that if they didn't move soon they'd end up welded together - not that that was a bad thing. The loft was a lot cooler than Duncan remembered and he contemplated the blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed. The problem was that getting it would require movement and he didn't want to disturb Methos, never mind the fact he wasn't sure he _could_ move. A long leg shifted and a foot snagged the blanket bringing it up to a point where the long arm that snaked out could grab it. Duncan helped Methos drag the blanket over both of them with a minimum of movement and then wrapped his arms back around his lover.

Bodies cooled and breathing slowed and Duncan drifted on the edges of sleep. He gazed down at his lover, in sleep Methos looked almost alarmingly young and unbelievably innocent, there was no trace of the power and presence that had so terrified him earlier.

"Stop staring Duncan, or I'll start thinking this was a bad idea," the sleepy mutter made him smile.

"Sorry, I just..."

"I know," Methos interrupted and raised his head to smile tolerantly at his lover. "I am who I am, Duncan. And I'll still be here in the morning. Go to sleep."

Duncan smiled, Stonehenge was only 4,000 years old and people had been trying to unravel its secrets for millennia, he couldn't expect to understand in one night the 5,000 year old mystery he held in his arms. Though maybe, if Methos had meant what he thought, his lover would be willing to help him work it out. Duncan's last thought, as he began the slow slide into sleep, was that maybe he should ask Methos about Stonehenge.

In the morning.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> The book Methos is reading is, of course, Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien.


End file.
